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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25605130">Dr. Reid has too many tabs open in his brain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athenaash/pseuds/Athenaash'>Athenaash</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Autistic Spencer Reid [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(but not rn), (but only a lil bit), (later when hes calmer), Autism Spectrum, Autistic Meltdown, Autistic Penelope Garcia, Autistic Spencer Reid, Big Brother Derek Morgan, Case Fic, Gen, Hotch and Rossi said team dad noises, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Reid/Morgan if you squint, Self-Harm, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Team as Family, first work in the fandom, that should be a tag, vent fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:34:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25605130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athenaash/pseuds/Athenaash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid has a meltdown, and the team is nice to him. That's it, that's the fic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Morgan &amp; Spencer Reid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Autistic Spencer Reid [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855861</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>424</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dr. Reid has too many tabs open in his brain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TW: unintentional self-harm, a lil bit of internalized ableism, graphic description of a meltdown, and a tiny mention of child abuse</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>"Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends"</span>
  </em>
  <span> - Shirley Maclaine </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spencer brought his fist down on his left thigh, the other tangled tightly in his hair. He locked himself in a police station’s bathroom - single person, thank fucking god-, head pounding. Everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the doctor couldn’t get his brain to shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The lights were too bright, and despite knowing otherwise, the room was spinning so fast it made him dizzy. His tie was too tight, his feet hurt from walking all day, and to make matters worse, his face stung with a forming sunburn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their case was long and hard, ones with children always hurt more than they should. He was reminded too much of his childhood. His thoughts drifting down a dangerous road of abuse and neglect. He dragged his fingernails down his arms, blood welling up under his fingertips. God spencer </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurting</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why was he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurting?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A strangled noise made its way out of his throat as he heard a knock on the bathroom door. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>tooloudtooloudtooLOUD!)</span>
  </em>
  <span> Spencer couldn’t hear the words someone said to him, his brain scrambling all the sounds that hit his ears. He rocked back and forth, trying to bring some sort of comfort into his body. Useless noises fell out of his mouth, and he started to pull on his hair. He heard commotion outside of the door, but he tried his best to ignore it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(badbadbadbad he can’t breathe)</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opened, and Spencer let out a hiss at the light streaming into the room. He shut his eyes as tight as they would go, he let his hands go to cover his ears. He needed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why couldn’t he breathe? God, he couldn’t breathe, someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>help him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He started hitting his head when two hands grabbed his own. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nonononono toomuchtoomuch STOP IT stopitstopstopstopSTOP.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor let out a strangled scream, and he heard soft talking in his ear. It was too </span>
  <em>
    <span>loud,</span>
  </em>
  <span> why was it so loud? Spencer’s breath came out rough and ragged, he was hyperventilating. He stopped trying to hurt himself, but he was still whimpering and pulling at the arms wrapped around his forearms. They let him go, and he carded his fingers through his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rocking back and forth, the doctor started to wind down. His brain was foggy, head pounding. It took a while, too long, for him to calm down enough to realize who was in front of him, Morgan, and even longer for him to realize he should be ashamed of what happened. Words slowly started to unscrambled themselves in his head, and he realized his friend was talking to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His breath started to quicken again, realizing what Morgan just </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was gonna tell Hotch, and then he was gonna get fired and then- "-etty boy. Pretty boy! Shhhhh, you're safe kid, you're safe." His friend reached out a hand but thought better of it when he saw the way Spencer stiffened. "... what's your favorite color, kid?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spencer paused, confused, before realizing what Derek was trying to do, "What's your favorite color kid?" He slapped a hand over his mouth as he realized what he said, his voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, as he scrubbed at his eyes, which were full of tears. He opened his mouth a few more times, unable to force words out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded, understanding "Mine's has gotta be green. There’s somethin' so fresh about it, you know?" He kept his voice quiet and soft as if any loud noise would set the doctor off again (it would).  Derek sat down a foot away from Spencer if he had to guess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spencer nodded, feeling himself start to drift. "Stay with me kid. Can you do that?" He nodded slightly, head still pounding. "What </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> that?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What was that?" Spencer repeated he shrugged, hands flapping, how the hell do you tell your coworker </span>
  <em>
    <span>'oh sorry. I'm autistic and that was a meltdown, I'll never stop having them and there’s nothing you can do to help with them,'</span>
  </em>
  <span>? No one could know about it, that's been drilled into his head since he was a kid. Morgan paused, unsure of what to say, before he blew out a sigh, and sat next to the kid, in silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They sat there for a while, almost an hour before Spencer could form words that belonged to him. "Sorry," was the first thing he said, "I'm fine now" was the second. The doctor, despite his 3 PHDs and genius brain, doesn’t have a lick of common sense in his body to tell him that lying to an accomplished profiler wasn't a good idea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Derek scoffed but didn't call him out on the obvious lie. Spencer looked… looked exhausted, even more than normal, covering his visible skin were red welts, and the bags under his eyes have never looked so prominent on his now sickly pale skin. "Who heard?" His tone was short, choppy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The grimace on Morgan’s face told him everything he needed to know. He groaned, "Wheres my bag?" It was placed in his hands, and he wasted no time going through it to find the kit that Garcia made for him, complete with stim toys, sunglasses, and a pair of headphones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He busied his hands with a tangle, after slipping his protective gear on. He rocked back and forth himself slowly, not ready to leave the safety of the restroom. Morgan’s voice broke through the silence, causing Spencer to flinch, "What happened?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What happened?" Spencer repeated, "It was too much I guess," he shrugged, not trusting his voice to say anything else. The doctor started clicking his tongue, still too stressed to do much of anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took a while before Spencer was able to stand up, and when he did blood rushed to his head. He froze for a few moments, before righting himself, and looking to Morgan. "Take me to the hotel?" </span>
  <span>On their way out, Spencer could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> the stares of the station, even as he was tucked tight under Morgans arm, they were stopped by an officer, but the words he and his team member exchanged flew over the doctors head, a pounding headache replacing his thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So?" Spencer didn’t look up from the book he was reading, The Count of Monte Cristo, as Derek sat across from him on the jet. He… </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t want to talk about today, but… god, he knew his team wouldn’t stop pressuring him until he did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What the hell happened today pretty boy? Don’t tell me it was nothing," He finally dropped the book, deciding instead to chew on his thumbnail and churn his thoughts. Belatedly he saw everyone tune into the conversation they were having.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"... you shouldn’t have seen that. I promise it won’t interfere with a case again, and there’s no reason to take me off the field," His voice, without him realizing, slipped in a note of desperation. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> lose this job, it was the one place he felt safe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hotch took notice of his mini-panic, "No one is taking you off the job. As long as those… moments don’t interfere with the case--and I have no reason to believe they will--I have no reason to take you off the job," Spencer let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, "It was a meltdown. They happen when I'm stressed, or the stimuli around me is too much. One in fifty-four children in the US have been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Which, I don’t understand why that statistic uses the word children, ASD is a lifelong disorder, that affects both children and adults," Spencer clasped his hands to keep from flapping, "Most of them deal with meltdowns, and they’re difficult to manage,"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The team was silent for a moment, turning over Spencer’s words in their head, before Penelope spoke out, noticing his discomfort, "Oh my god, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> meltdowns! They’re so stressful! Aspie buddies!" Spencer allowed himself to shoot a smile to his friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uh…" Emily spoke out, voice tentative, "My cousin is autistic, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know?" The rest of the team chimed in with similar agreements, and Spencer let himself smile again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor let his hands fall to his sides, and lightly hit the sides of his thighs, as if he was testing the waters of stimming in front of the team. They all noticed the tension slowly seep out of the youngest’s shoulders, a smile settling comfortably on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rossi crossed his arms, and leaned back, "All of you are coming to dinner at my place tomorrow, non-negotiable"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>After</span>
  </em>
  <span> you all get at least four hours of sleep, ok?" Hotch leveled the team with a light-hearted glare, "Tomorrow is Sunday, I’ll make sure we get a week break off cases, kay?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The team settled into a quiet conversation, just filling the silence of the plane, as Spencer started to drift off, anticipating a dreamless sleep. He felt a blanket fall onto his body, before blacking out completely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>
<em>
    <span>"Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence." </span>
  </em>
  <span>- Helen Keller</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AAAAAAAH THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE AND ITS FINALLY DONE,,,,,,, EEEE!! The ending is kinda rushed, but I hope you can forgive me ;-; If there's any grammar errors, please make sure to tell me!!</p><p>Make sure you've taken your meds, eaten, and drunken water today!! ILY all!! Thank you so much for reading &lt;3!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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